


He Came Home

by BrokenHazelEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), captain america winter soldier
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHazelEyes/pseuds/BrokenHazelEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU where Bucky escapes HYDRA after gaining his memories back.</p>
<p>“No!” Bucky snarled, rolling to his knees and pulling at the too-long hair, and struggled to stand. He tried to remember what it looked like when bombs were falling all over the midnight sky, how the stars looked just like that. More flashes gripped his arms like chains, pulling him back toward the ice. </p>
<p>Bucky wanted to be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Came Home

 

 

                Muddled and disorientating, memories were not a thing the Winter Soldier tried to recall. There were missions, targets and pain if he failed. That was all he needed to know, and the less he knew the less he was harmed. To compare the Soviet tool to a child would be a clear stretch; though a killer he didn’t like the sensation of pain and stayed away from the causes of it.

                Bucky Barnes, however, was a fighter.

                That was how this situation had ended up with a slow blast that had sent the body of the Soldier clear across the field, scarred and tired. It was a failed mission, and the Soldier was already aching with the knowledge that soon everything was going to burn. Maybe they’d just shock him this time, and not tie him outside in the thigh-deep snow. Both Soldier and Bucky were tired of pain.

                The tundra blurred away to the bloody snow and the ruined body of the Soldier on the ground. Resonating like a bullet off metal (a shield, a voice supplied, a shield) was the sound of the blast. The Soldier’s head ached, and rested on the ground where dirt had sunken lower from the fierce blow. Lights seemed to flicker in the sky, stars once small and unimportant now glaring like street lamps at midnight. Everything was flashing back, and Bucky (not the Soldier, who was oddly silent) felt like he was falling from ten thousand feet.

                Each flash of a broad smile and blonde hair made his stomach drop, and the cold silver of his hand creaked in protest as he clenched it tighter into a fist. A scream bubbled from his throat as he saw the cell HYDRA had kept him in, a horrible timeline spanning over seventy years. Bucky was falling apart.

                But he was also rebuilding.

                Steve, a name full of fondness and warmth, hid behind Bucky’s hoarse cry, and the Soldier clawed toward his flesh.

                “No!” Bucky snarled, rolling to his knees and pulling at the too-long hair, and struggled to stand. He tried to remember what it looked like when bombs were falling all over the midnight sky, how the stars looked just like that. More flashes gripped his arms like chains, pulling him back toward the ice.

                Bucky wanted to be free.

                Once again, like a video forever on repeat, Steve’s name and face drifted between thoughts. Steve had never hurt Bucky, they were brothers. Steve could save Bucky, make the Soldier go away and the men from HYDRA too. The ice of the Russian wasteland fell out from under Barnes’ feet, leaving him in freefall. Then, like sick clockwork, the fall stopped. He was floating, weightless, and he could perfectly see the blonde man’s face.

                “I have to find Steve, I have to find Steve…” Bucky mumbled to himself, pulling his body up slowly so the world could stop spinning. Placing one foot in front of the other, the sniper trudged through the snow and toward what appeared to be a small town.

                A cold thought stopped Bucky in his tracks. What if Steve didn’t accept him? Bucky wasn’t the good man that Steve had once known, the Soldier had killed too many innocents to count.

                “I just got to find him first,” Bucky panted, holding his flesh palm over the bleeding wound centered on his ribcage. “Then he can decide what to do with me. But I got to find him first.”

                The Soldier voiced no opinion, fading slowly away like an ebbing tide. The Winter Soldier was never going home, not to that base, never again.

               

                For six miles Bucky trekked on, the town he had once seen long abandoned. A small house, now fallen apart but once elegant and loved, opened its door to the cold stranger. So Bucky sat there, eyes staring out the dusty window, as the horizon tinged red. He didn’t move, only sucked in breaths of stale air and ran his flesh fingers across the hilt of a knife attached to his boot.

                Bucky didn’t even know where to start, and a small question gnawed at his mind. Was Steve even alive?

                “He is, he is.” Bucky rushed out quickly, closing his eyes against the rising panic swelling at the start of his collarbone. “Steve’s fine, he’s okay.”

               

                It turned out that Bucky had been in a remote area of Russia, far from the American borders where he assumed Steve would be. Still, after six months of planning and too many flashbacks, he stepped foot on the soil for the first time since he had been deployed. Or at least, he assumed so. The memories of his kills were still blurry; he saw faces but not locations.

                Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a gift, or a curse.

                New York was glistening like the Russian stars, all lit up with fancy lights and towering buildings.

                The sniper should have known to not get distracted, and quickly noticed his mistake as a black van circled his location for the third time. He saw another one at a light, and headlights peeking out from an alleyway.

                Weak from lack of food and the city unfamiliar, it honestly didn’t surprise Bucky that the suited men took him easily.

                These men didn’t treat him like HYDRA had though, they only shoved him in a dim cell and locked the door. The months without pain had made him soft, letting him relax until his guard was dangerously low. The first blow, delivered from a man who had rushed in from the open door, landed square on his temple.

                The impact didn’t knock him out, only stunned him, and a blurry image of Steve and him wrestling (long before the serum) made his eyes ache.

                The men in suits tied him to a chair, and watched him like a wolf watches a bear. Angry, tempered looks tried to bore holes in Bucky’s head, but it was far better from any punishment HYDRA had given.

                “What’s your name?” A suit asked, leaning on the table so that he was slightly taller than Bucky.

                “James.” Bucky responded, warily watching their movements, and stiffened when he felt the air shift behind him. There was no way the sniper could flinch away from the baton, and electricity zipped through his body.

                Every nerve was on fire, and his limbs were shaking and seizing. The man asked for Bucky’s name again, and Bucky responded the same. The interrogation cell, for the rest of the night, was far from silent with the sounds of crackling voltage and pained gasps.

               

                Bucky wasn’t sure if the agony in Russia or America was better.

 

                On the sixth day, beaten and bruised, Bucky raced across the rooftops. He couldn’t hear any men chasing him, and hoped that he had no pursuers. He had a sniper rifle slung on his back, taken from a soldier, and a cell phone in his hand.

                A simple text read only that there was a fight and that Captain America had requested back up from the Avengers.

                Bucky had never run so fast in his life, jumping distances like they were nothing and ghosting across the hot tar tops of the buildings. It wasn’t like the fight was hard to spot, and the bright colors of Steve’s suit glistened like gold in the sunlight. It took everything Bucky had to not shout out, jump to the ground and grab his friend up.

                If he did that then he’d lose the shot at the enemy, and that meant that Steve would be put in danger. No, Bucky could wait.

                The barrel of the rifle was light, and Bucky’s hands adjusted it so that the sight was perfect on the target. Armor covered the enemy’s body, but even from here Bucky could spot a flaw. Between shoulder and neck there was a spot, just wide enough that a shot could clear the metal.

                He had to take that shot.

                The whirling blades of some sort of military carrier was getting closer, but he had a shot and didn’t know if he should trust Steve’s back up to be competent enough.

                Eye on the target and finger on the trigger, Bucky pulled in a breath and aimed.

                The bullet flew straight and true, and the enemy’s face was almost comically wide as blood ran down the dark metal and Steve’s gaze searched for the origin. The military carrier had landed, and blurry figures ran toward Steve.

                Bucky’s finger itched to pull the trigger again, but it was clear these people weren’t a threat to Steve.

                Steve. He had found Steve.

                Climbing down the building was easy, and he placed the gun back over his shoulder. The rubble wasn’t too bad here, and the dark alley beside the building quickly gave way to a sunlit road.

                No one noticed him.

                Voice shaky and hesitant, Bucky called out.

                “Steve?”

               

                Captain America whirled around, ears ringing with a voice too familiar, and dropped his shield when he saw Bucky’s face. A sniper rifle was visible over his shoulders, and Cap immediately knew where the shot had come from.

                Hope and fear and pure euphoria were circling through his body, but everything went cold when he heard Natasha swear in Russian and fire off a shot.

                The bullet easily pierced Bucky’s shoulder, and a gloved hand grabbed at the bleeding wound. The sniper’s face was pinched with hurt, and stumbled to his knees, unbalanced.

                Steve spun around, already shouting at Natasha when the gun recoiled again. The second bullet tore closer to Bucky’s chest, and frantic screams echoed through the streets. Natasha’s eyes widened in shock, and it took a moment for Steve to realize that it was his voice.

                Sprinting away from the team, eyes wet and terrified, Steve stumbled to Bucky’s side and placed his hands over the bleeding wounds.

                Despite the pain, and a hiss of discomfort as Steve pressed down, Bucky was grinning widely.

                “I knew I’d find you, Steve.” Bucky coughed, his own hand drifting away from where he had been putting pressure.

                Steve didn’t try to ignore him, but was shouting for medical help and turned back with fear written deep in the lines that age had left behind. The blood was still pumping between the Captain’s fingers, and Bucky was already pale.

                “God, Buck…” Steve choked, pressing his forehead against his sniper’s. Tears freely leaked down his cheeks, and Bucky reached a shaky hand up to trace at Steve’s jaw.

                “I missed you.” The sniper smiled, trying to not let his breath hitch as his wounds were jarred. Steve picked him up as softly as possible, heading for the man dressed in all iron. There was another military carrier landing, and the Captain rushed up the ramp.

               

                Bucky floated in and out of consciousness as Steve held him through the carrier ride, the heavy hands on his chest and shoulder keeping him grounded. Never once did Steve let Bucky go.

 

                Three weeks later, when Bucky arrived at the Avengers tower holding Steve’s hand, Tony told him that it took both him and Bruce to drag Steve away so that the doctors could attend to him.

 

                Steve never really got over that fear of losing Bucky.

                He still held him tight every night.


End file.
